


Diamond

by wheel_pen



Series: Loose Gems [16]
Category: Original Work, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, The West Wing
Genre: M/M, Slavery, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3909634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Duke is handed a new servant, and a financial mess, by a dead man. Later, a young entertainer travels with his master to a foreign land.</p><p>Updated with text moved around, new chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things.  
> Inherent in slavery and other forms of subjugation are dubious consent, unhealthy relationships, and violence.  
> I hope you enjoy this original work/alternate universe, which was inspired by many different stories.  
>   
> Visual reference:  
> Diamond--Ewan McGregor  
> the Duke--Liam Neeson

After an hour, Diamond told himself to stop panicking and think sensibly, no matter how little he was used to that. When he had set out, the sun was lowering behind him, so logically if he put the sun to his face he should end up in the right spot. Problem: the sun had set completely at this point. Wasn’t the moon supposed to rise opposite the sun? Or was that only sometimes?

The stars could help him tell directions—there was supposed to be one that always shone in the north, right? But he couldn’t see the stars or the moon through the tall, thick trees. Fortunately, he heard no wolves or bears or wildcats prowling through the underbrush—yet, anyway—and his master had insisted he wear his woolen cloak so he wasn’t too cold. Still, without the firewood, his master couldn’t have a fire and he would have to eat a cold supper, lie down to sleep uncomfortably beside the circle of stones he’d prepared. When he finally returned, his master was going to kill him for sure.

_If_ he returned. Alone in the vast woods, it was as if he was the only human being left alive in the whole world, and the thought chilled him more than the wind that had picked up. If he couldn’t get back to his master, how was he going to eat? How was he going to keep warm? How was he going to be safe from the wild animals and the bandits that roamed the woods at night? How was he ever going to get where he and his master were going? Who was going to take care of him for the rest of his very short life, until he starved or froze to death and his body was mauled to pieces by bears?

Diamond started to cry, even though he knew it would only make things more confused. Suddenly his stomach cried out for food—although he’d had a fairly generous meal at lunch that day—and the wind seemed to find every thin patch in his cloak. The leaves underfoot crunched loudly as he wandered aimlessly—was that _his_ doing or was something following him? He cried harder.

He wanted his master. His master was old and frail and often troubled by matters of family or business, but in nearly four years he had never had a harsh word for his companion. Well, an undeserved harsh word—breaking the heirloom vase was certainly worth a harsh word. But even then his master had never been rough with him.

Even when his master was sick—which was fairly often recently—he felt safe with him. He certainly wasn’t safe now, what with his fingers starting to blacken from frostbite (he was sure), his vision swimming from lack of food, and an enormous bear crashing through the woods behind him.

He’d heard you weren’t supposed to run when an animal was chasing you, that it only encouraged them, but what else were you supposed to _do_? No one ever talked about _that_. So he started running anyway, stumbling over the dead tree trunks, tearing holes in his cloak with the branches. He could barely see where he was going, with only a few strands of moonlight darting in between the thick treetops to guide him, and his eyes were blurred with hot tears anyway.

Finally he tripped over a stone and went down painfully on his elbows, his cloak tangled over his head. He was too scared to move—the crashing behind him got closer, and it couldn’t possibly be his imagination anymore because he wasn’t moving. He sobbed helplessly, his face buried in his arms, listening to the sound of his certain doom approaching and wishing with all his heart that he had never agreed to leave his master’s side.

**

The Duke reined his horse to a stop, raising his hand to signal the rest of the party to halt. He peered intently into the dim woods, listening for the sound that had drawn them off their path. A low sob filled the air, full of terror and despair, and his secretary Paldor glanced over at him to see what his reaction would be. The Duke, frowning, determined that the sound was too close to risk riding any further—they were likely to trample whoever was making it in the dark. He didn’t both explaining his reasoning to his men—if they were intelligent at all, they would have reached the same conclusion—but rather slipped silently off his horse and pushed cautiously through the overgrown forest.

The sound they had heard was unlikely to come from an animal, even a wounded one, and the Duke surmised it to be a traveler who had, perhaps, been set upon by bandits. In any case, the investigation of the mysterious noise was a good excuse to keep him away from his sister’s house for a while longer—perhaps by the time he finally arrived, her multitudes of loud, sticky children would have been put to sleep and he could enjoy a conversation with her in peace.

He heard Paldor following him quietly; at least two men stayed behind to watch the horses and offer back-up—they were quite well-trained, after all. The sobbing was louder, more clear now, and seemed to be stationary—he must have finally stopped his crashing through the underbrush, rousing every sort of predator in the forest. The Duke grimaced for a moment—perhaps it was a lost child. In that case he would let Paldor deal with it.

At last he spotted the outline of something moving on the ground—a pair of legs attached to a haphazard lump of cloth, or so it appeared. “You there!” the Duke shouted. The sobbing continued, with no sign that the person had even heard him, and he fought a sigh—he was handing any hysterics over to Paldor as well. Picking his way closer, the Duke repeated his call to no avail. Finally he stood right where the head ought to be and whipped the cloak off the body—surely that would get anyone’s attention.

His warm covering abruptly removed, Diamond jerked his head up and found himself facing a very large pair of boots. Funny, he hadn’t heard anyone approach. Trying to stifle his crying he followed the boots up well-muscled legs to a broad chest, powerful arms, and—Diamond’s breath caught for a moment when he saw his face, lit by moonlight breaking through the trees. Although not nearly as old as his master, this man was clearly mature, with a long, patrician nose, a haughty stare, and a serious jaw. Together they practically radiated strength, power, dignity, nobility—and annoyance as well. He was, in short, like no one Diamond had ever seen before, and the thought of being commanded by that much power sent a thrill through him.

The person on the ground was not as young as the Duke had expected—by his behavior the Duke had anticipated perhaps a teenager, uncertain and alone, but the man at his feet was more likely in his early 20’s. In the moonlight his short, pale hair glowed silver and his big eyes shone with the tears still sliding down his boyish face to the dimple in his chin. For a moment the Duke was transfixed; then he quickly shook himself back to his senses and asked, more curtly than he’d intended, “Are you injured?”

His rescuer’s voice was deep and rich and smooth, exactly as Diamond had imagined it would be. “Um, I don’t think so, sir,” he hiccupped awkwardly, although he wasn’t entirely certain.

The boy’s—young man’s, he corrected himself—voice was thick with tears still, and oddly accented. “Well get up, then,” the Duke ordered, slightly exasperated.

Diamond’s years of conditioning kicked in and he scrambled to obey, but his limbs were stiff from walking for hours and he kept stepping on the hem of his cloak. Finally the other man grabbed the front of his shirt in his big hands and dragged him to his feet. “Now who are you?” he demanded, hands on his hips. “Why are you out here?”

Automatically Diamond dropped back to his knees, a posture of subservience—it was clear this man had a higher rank than he, but then again, few didn’t. “I’m lost, sir,” he admitted in his most pathetic tone, staring at the shiny black boots. “I can’t find my master. He sent me out to get firewood, but that was a long time ago and he’ll be so angry at me. I _want_ to find my way back to him, sir, really I do, I’m not trying to escape, I swear it, but I’m lost, I get lost frequently, I—“

“Stop,” the Duke commanded, slightly overwhelmed. The boy quieted instantly; he could sense Paldor covering his smirk beside him. “What’s your name?”

“Diamond, sir. I know it’s a little strange, sir, but my first master gave it to me. It was something about how hard my head must be, because I kept—“

“And what is your master’s name?” the Duke interrupted. “ _Just_ his name.”

“Lord Allio, late of Baudain, sir,” Diamond replied with a sniff.

The Duke glanced at Paldor, who nodded to say that he also had heard of the man. “Baudain is on the other side of the mountains,” he commented sharply to the servant. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know for sure, sir,” Diamond admitted. “My master sold his estate in Baudain, he said he was going to Creflo to ask the Duke to help him find a new one. I think, sir.”

“Well, _I_ am Duke Nicorai, boy,” he told the servant sternly, “and when we find your master your story had better be confirmed. You’re pretty far away from the nearest clearing where he could be camped.”

Diamond allowed himself a most disrespectful glance upwards—to show the utter sincerity in his face, he told himself, as he gazed at the ruler of his land once more. “I _swear_ , Your Highness, I’m lost, I really am, I’m always getting lost, I don’t know why my master sent me out so far—“

“Enough!” The Duke stared down at those big—green?—eyes so brazenly facing him. “Are you certain he wasn’t just trying to get some peace and quiet?”

Paldor couldn’t contain himself anymore and let out a snicker, but the boy seemed to have completely missed the Duke’s point. “Oh, no, sir,” he insisted. “My master likes to hear me talk, he says he finds it comforting.”

“Really,” the Duke commented dryly. Before the boy could start talking again, he held up his hand for silence. “Let’s go find your master, then, and return you to him.”

Diamond jumped to his feet and followed his rescuer through the trees. The Duke’s long, dark hair shimmered in the moonlight, reminding Diamond of a lion’s mane. Even though he was still lost in the middle of the woods, cold, hungry, and tired, he felt completely safe with this man. If anyone could find his master, it would be him.

The Duke emerged from the bushes to find his men and horses waiting patiently. The grey stallion he swung up onto was easily the largest horse Diamond had ever seen, but the Duke handled him easily. “Um, sir…” Diamond began, slightly intimidated by the raw power surrounding him in both men and horses.

“You may ride with Paldor, my secretary,” the Duke replied off-hand, starting to turn his horse.

“Excuse me, Your Grace,” Paldor said in that smirking tone of his, “but I’m afraid my horse is already rather weighted down.”

“With what?” the Duke demanded. If Paldor thought he was going to get away with—

“Why, your generous gifts for the children, my lord,” the secretary replied easily. “I really don’t think my horse could carry another person.”

“Oh, are you going to see children?” Diamond asked, brightening. “I just love children, so does my master, he says I’m very good with them—“

“Don’t speak until you’re spoken to, boy,” the Duke snapped, glaring at Paldor.

“Yes, sir.”

The Duke ignored him and turned to the rest of his men. “I suppose your horses are too weighted down as well?”

The soldiers looked considerably less confident than Paldor, but since it was true, they nodded. “Supplies, m’lord,” ventured the boldest, still hesitant.

“Fine,” the Duke ground out. He glanced down at the servant who was staring up at him far too trustingly. “You will ride with me then.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy promptly climbed up behind the Duke, using his boot as the stirrup, and settled in close enough that the Duke could feel the warmth of his body. “My master always has me ride with him, he likes to lean against me and sleep sometimes.”

The Duke rolled his eyes. This was going to be a very long trip if the boy kept chattering the whole time. Although, there was something soothing in his warm, rough voice—some hypnotic quality from the constant talking, no doubt. The Duke spurred his horse forward, trying to knock his more frivolous thoughts out of his head, even as he felt the boy’s fingers clutch at his cloak for support.

“Where was your master camped, boy?” he asked, refusing to use his ridiculous given name.

“Um, I don’t know, sir,” Diamond replied. “That’s why I’m lost.”

The Duke heard no sarcasm in his tone, only sheepishness, so he let it pass. “I meant, can you describe the clearing? What is it near? How far from the main road?”

“Well, I guess there’s a little pond somewhat nearby, with a lovely stream with all kinds of those pink and white flowers around it—you know the kind that look like bleeding hearts?”

“I do not have the plant life of every pond in the woods memorized,” the Duke replied coldly.

Diamond took no notice of his tone. He had heard stories about the Duke, how he was tough but just, never cruel, and Diamond just had the feeling that he was only _pretending_ to be so annoyed with him. Pretending a little bit, anyway. He hoped that maybe they would start riding faster so he would be able to slip his arms around the Duke’s waist—just being this close to him was making Diamond’s heart beat a little faster.

“Oh no, of course not, Your Highness,” Diamond agreed easily. “Well, the clearing is about half a mile from the main road—“

“It’s ‘Your Grace,’” the Duke interrupted, with unusual hesitation.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“My title. Kings are ‘Your Highness.’ Dukes are ‘Your Grace.’” He felt a little silly even mentioning it—he usually didn’t expect commoners to remember such details of protocol, but for some reason he wanted to make sure the boy had it right.

“Oh, I apologize, Your Grace,” Diamond told him, sounding just a little frantic. “I’m so sorry, I’m not used to addressing nobles, anyone higher than lords and ladies, that is. My master very rarely entertains and—“

“Half a mile from the main road, you said?” The Duke tried not to sound quite so harsh when he interrupted the boy this time.

“Yes, Your Grace, about half a mile, and it’s just a little clearing, with a ring of pine trees and this one giant oak tree that the bears have used as a scratching post. My master said it had, anyway, he said you can tell by how the bark has—“

“Excuse me, Your Grace,” one of the soldiers said, “but I think I know which clearing he means. It’s just up this way, sir.”

The Duke nodded and they adjusted their course slightly. After several moments of silence that seemed suddenly dull, the Duke asked of the servant, “You said your master was coming to speak to me, yet I received no correspondence from him.” He glanced at Paldor, who nodded in confirmation. “And I am not in the real estate business anyway. Are you certain that was his errand?”

“Well, my master doesn’t really discuss his business with me, Your Grace”—again, no snideness, only a little melancholy—“but he said that after he sold his estate he was going to settle his affairs somewhere else, in Creflo, with your help, sir,” Diamond replied thoughtfully. “That’s all he said.”

“Settle his affairs could mean…” Paldor let his voice drift off, but the Duke understood what he meant.

“Yes, it could,” he agreed, mulling over the servant’s words. The boy seemed to think his master wanted to settle—as in _live_ —in Creflo, the capital city, with the Duke’s assistance; but the Duke barely knew this Lord Allio. Not even the Duke’s closest friends would bother him with such a trivial matter. But perhaps Lord Allio didn’t understand that. Or perhaps what he really meant was—

“How old is your master, boy?”

“Oh, he’s very old, sir, older than you,” Diamond answered.

The Duke heard Paldor cough once beside them, no doubt covering a chuckle. “And is he ill?”

Diamond hesitated. Safe or not, he wasn’t sure how much he was supposed to discuss about his master. “He has been ill recently, sir, a winter cold is all, but he is feeling better now. Well enough to travel.”

The Duke nodded but said nothing. If this Lord Allio thought he was near the end of his life, perhaps he was coming to see the Duke about how to divide and administer his property. The Duke was not a notary, of course, but it was not unknown for particularly wealthy individuals to seek out his advice or arbitration when there were many contentious heirs whose greed could lead to bloodshed. Still, the Duke did not remember Lord Allio’s name among that elite set.

Behind the Duke, Diamond wished he dared to curl just a little bit closer, but he had a feeling the nobleman would toss him off his horse if he moved another inch. He stifled a sigh and instead concentrated on what pleasure he could safely find, discreetly inhaling the spicy scent of his rescuer’s long hair. Some expensive oil from an exotic land, no doubt, although the Duke didn’t really seem the type to indulge in such—

“Does any of this look familiar, boy?”

The Duke sounded a little irritated and Diamond wondered guiltily how many times he’d asked that question. “Um, not really, sir,” the servant answered, twisting elaborately to stare around the dark woods. “All the trees look rather alike to me, sir. I tend to get lost very frequently, even at home—er, back at Baudain.” He frowned. “But my master wanted me to look for firewood far away from the camp—he said I was to start walking and recite my poem out loud and when I got to the end of it, I was to gather an armload of firewood. Well, it’s quite a long poem, at least it seems long to me, sir, and by the time I got to the end of it I was all turned around in my head and I—“

“The clearing should be just ahead, Your Grace,” ventured one of the soldiers.

The Duke nodded and signaled the riders to stop. “Get down, boy,” he said over his shoulder, and the servant obediently scrambled off the horse, although he watched the Duke with a bemused expression. “Go and tell your master we’re here,” the older man explained. “There’s no reason to alarm him by having the whole party ride in unannounced.”

“Yes, sir,” Diamond agreed. He looked around. “Which way is the clearing, sir?”

Without even bothering to sigh the Duke pointed at the trees ahead. Diamond nodded and gave him a quick bow, the headed in the direction indicated. “Master!” he hollered at what seemed to be the top of his lungs—even the Duke jumped a little. So much for not startling anyone. “Master! I’m back! It’s me, Diamond!”

The young man disappeared into the trees, though his voice carried clearly. “I got lost, Master. Before I even got to the end of the poem I was lost. But someone found me and brought me back to you, and you won’t guess who it was! It’s the Duke, Master! He’s waiting just back there with some of his men—Master?”

The Duke found himself listening more closely at the unusual silence. “Master? I’m sorry to wake you, but—Master? Master?” There was a pause, then a cry of shock and despair that echoed through the forest. In an instant the Duke was on his feet pushing through the trees, his men right behind him. He burst into the clearing and saw Diamond on his knees beside the dying fire, clutching an elderly man to his chest. Correction—the _body_ of an elderly man.

For a moment the boy was silent, still in shock. The Duke knelt beside him and started to gently pull the body out of his grasp, and Diamond let out another howl that quickly turned into a gale of sobs. “No, no, no, Master…” he cried as the Duke carefully laid Lord Allio’s body back down on the pile of blankets before the glowing embers. “Master, _please_ wake up…”

The Duke shared a glance with Paldor, who had dropped down beside them. Lord Allio’s body was cold and starting to stiffen; he had been dead for several hours. One look told his men to secure the area, making certain there was nothing—and no one—unusual around. The Duke gave a cursory examination for wounds or injuries, any signs of violence, but wasn’t surprised when he found none. Lord Allio was quite old, in his 80s at least, and rather frail-looking.

The whole time Diamond grasped his late master’s sleeve with a grip like iron; as soon as the Duke moved out of his way he flung himself across the body, burying his sobs in the thick cloak his late master always wore.

The Duke frowned at him, unsure of what to say. Finally he began tentatively, “Diamond—“

“It’s all my fault!” the boy wailed. “If I hadn’t gotten l-lost, if I had c-come back with firewood sooner—“

“No, Diamond, he made a fire himself, you see?” the Duke pointed out, nodding as one of his men offered to revive the cooling coals.

The announcement seemed to have little effect on the boy. “Then I should have been here to protect him,” he insisted, curling closer to his late master’s body, “from the bandits or-or whatever—“

“I don’t think he was attacked by anything—“

“Then I could have at least gone for help!” the servant shouted, dissolving into a fresh round of helpless sobs.

The Duke felt equally helpless as he knelt on the hard ground watching the boy’s heart break. He could command armies, he could negotiate business deals, he could make decisions that affected the welfare of every person in his country, but yet he couldn’t find the words that would somehow comfort one young man—whose grief really shouldn’t be affecting him so much anyway.

Diamond pulled the edge of his late master’s cloak out from under him and stretched it across his still chest. His master was always cold, he even wore his cloak around the house. As he straightened the fabric a fat envelope tumbled out of one of the folds. It was sealed with his master’s symbol, but he didn’t understand the words written on it.

“What’s that?” Paldor asked delicately.

Diamond shrugged without interest as he laid his head back down on Lord Allio’s chest. “I don’t know,” he sniffed, tucking his own cloak around him. “I can’t read.”

Paldor picked up the discarded envelope, glanced at the message on the outside, and with wide eyes called the Duke back to him.

“It shouldn’t take you more than an hour to reach my sister’s house,” the Duke was saying to one of his men. “Come back here when you’ve delivered the message. We might meet you on the way.” The man nodded and jogged off to his horse. The Duke rejoined his secretary at the fire with a questioning look on his face. “Yes?”

Silently Paldor handed him the envelope, watching his expression as he read the inscription: “To he who finds my remains.” The Duke settled heavily on a large log set up near the fire and broke the wax seal.

“ _To you this will seem the final foolish act of a desperate old man_ ,” it read, “ _and that is true—I am indeed old and desperate, and I can only pray that my final act will be blessed by Providence instead of being foolish. I apologize for having given you such an unpleasant surprise during your travel through the woods, but I beg you to help carry out this final foolish act. Anything of value here is yours, freely given, if you will but deliver my servant boy, Diamond, and the enclosed letter to the Duke of Vaalborg in Creflo. Diamond should be easy enough to find, most likely wandering in circles quite near the clearing. He will not give you much trouble if you explain this letter to him. If you will do this one small deed for me, know that you will have allowed the soul of a foolish old man to rest more easily. God bless you._ ”

The Duke read the letter a second time, his heart growing even heavier. Then he passed it across Lord Allio’s body to Paldor and opened the inner envelope, which was addressed to him.

“ _Your Grace, the Duke of Vaalborg_ ,” it began. “ _I fear that this letter will be a surprise to you. I have written to you several times in the past, but I believe that my letters have been intercepted. Therefore I must try to explain the situation as well as I can right now. I apologize for this rather unusual and inconvenient delivery of information, but my health is failing and I do not believe I will live even to discuss this matter with you in person._

_“My family has lived in Baudain, on the estate of Redbourne, for generations. Many would call us wealthy; some, such as yourself, would not. But we always had what we needed, and more, which is wealth enough. My father raised me to appreciate the value of our money, to spend it wisely and to donate it generously, but I found his teaching methods to be too harsh. So when I was a foolish young man, I decided that I would raise my two sons to enjoy themselves more than I had been allowed. That was my mistake. I apologize to you again for asking you to fix it._

_“My sons are adults now. They have wasted their lives in entertainments, in hunting and gaming and other pursuits that become frivolous in excess. And they have wasted their shares of our family fortune. Ever since my wife died almost four years ago, I have become even more foolish in my behavior towards my sons. I have spent the rest of my fortune paying off their debts. I have sold our family estate, all but the small cemetery plot where my wife and my ancestors are buried. This money, too, has gone to my sons’ creditors. Yet still they continue to spend. They are greedy and suspicious; that is my fault entirely. They are convinced that I have more funds hidden away somewhere, but the balance of my estate rests solely in the young man whom I hope has been brought to you._ ”

The Duke paused in his reading to glance over at the boy, wrapped around his master’s body as tightly as a cloak. His sobs were steady, and seemingly unending.

“ _His name is Diamond_ ,” the letter continued. “ _He is a contract employee, and I give his contract to you. Your reputation is that of an intelligent and just man; I know you will take good care of him. Please do not sell his contract to anyone, but rather dissolve it if you ever become tired of him. He is a good lad who has been a better son to me than either of my own. He is a little high-strung but fiercely loyal, with an excellent memory. I did not want him to see me in my final moments. Perhaps that was a mistake, also, but I did not think I could bear to see his grief. If he should bring you good fortune, please remember him, and also the poor of Baudain, whom my late wife devoted herself to helping._

_“My solicitor, Harald Corningswald of Riverwind, has a few documents you may be interested in, but I have no remaining wealth besides that which I have already indicated. I fear my sons will not believe this, however; this is why I have turned the matter over to you. I must apologize once more, and ask you to take pity on the final request of a foolish old man._

_Sincerely, Lord Allio._ ”

The Duke scrutinized the letter a second time, then handed it as well to Paldor and sat quietly mulling it over, his eyes drawn to his new contract employee. The young man had settled some, but his narrow shoulders still shook as he lay curled around Lord Allio’s body. In the firelight the Duke was able to see the red highlights in his unusually short, golden hair. His hands that clutched at his master’s cloak were slender and long—obviously the hands of an indoor companion, not any kind of laborer. What would he be suitable for, the Duke wondered idly. He certainly had no use for a companion as Lord Allio had. Something in the kitchens, perhaps. But first, the Duke had to figure out the mess the boy’s former master had left him, and how the boy figured into it.

As soon as they were home he would send Paldor off to this solicitor in Riverwind; perhaps he would help the Duke to better understand the whole situation. The scenario presented by Lord Allio was unfortunately _not_ uncommon these days—ancient family estates consumed in only a few years by greed and excess and foolishness. Lord Allio’s letter indicated that he had only two pieces of property of any value left—the small family cemetery plot, which was really worth little monetarily, except perhaps to whomever had bought the rest of Redbourne; and the contract on Diamond. He claimed to have nothing more; since he was not still around to withdraw his petition for aid, however, the Duke would be obligated to investigate his financial status, especially if his sons disputed it.

The Duke sighed wearily at the prospect of becoming involved in yet another ugly family battle, especially one being fought by people as worthless as Lord Allio described his sons. Our mistakes always come back to haunt us, the Duke decided dejectedly.

Gesturing to Paldor to follow him, the Duke stood and gently approached the single horse Diamond and Lord Allio had traveled on. The mare was small but sturdy, with a fine chestnut-brown coat; the Duke could easily imagine someone combing it lovingly everyday—quite possibly Diamond, if he was the only servant Lord Allio had left. The Duke and his secretary began discreetly examining the contents of the leather saddlebags, cataloging the few items the pair had brought with them. Some food and water, though nothing exotic; some important paperwork, like a receipt from the sale of Redbourne estate, which was immediately handed over to Paldor; a couple of ragged books, well-worn tales of adventure, magic, and ancient heroes; a couple extra items of clothing; and a small flute, which the Duke raised an eyebrow at. Perhaps the boy—or his late master—was a musician.

An hour later, the Duke and his men had finished investigating the campsite and were nearly ready to leave. One of his soldiers dashed out the fire and the Duke noticed that Diamond appeared to be sound asleep. Carefully he crouched down beside the younger man and touched his shoulder.

“Diamond,” the Duke said, shaking him gently. The boy mumbled something incoherent and curled up more. “Diamond,” the Duke repeated a bit more insistently. He didn’t respond. Sighing, the Duke tried to unclasp his fingers from their hold on Lord Allio’s cloak, but his grip was unyielding.

“Take the cloak off him,” Paldor suggested quietly.

The Duke nodded and together they maneuvered the body—minus his cloak—out from under the servant, who curled up on the ground, too exhausted from his earlier crying to notice. “Get a blanket,” the Duke ordered one of his men. “We’ll wrap him in it.” Respectfully, keeping Lord Allio’s position in mind, they folded the blanket around his body and laid him over the chestnut horse he’d ridden on. Then the Duke turned back to the smoking fire, hands on his hips—one thing left to do.

In just a few minutes he was mounted on his horse again, with the boy—wrapped in two cloaks—in front of him, unconsciously burrowing into his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diamond has been told by someone mean that the Duke is getting tired of him and is going to sell his contract.
> 
> Story updated with text moved around, new chapters

Ellie was not a worrier. She took her duties as housekeeper for the Duke seriously, but she knew the difference between merely preferable and absolutely life-or-death. Still, at the moment she found herself seriously concerned about the Duke’s little companion, Diamond.

He was a moody boy, usually full of boundless enthusiasm but prone to flashes of despair when something upset him, and something had definitely upset him. Unfortunately that something had ridden away from the castle two days earlier and was not scheduled to return until the end of the week.

Ellie didn’t understand why the boy had taken his master’s departure so badly this time—certainly the Duke had taken short business trips before without bringing Diamond along. But the boy had a flare for the dramatic and had made quite a scene when the Duke had left—two of the guards had been called in to restrain him. As soon as the Duke was out of sight, Diamond had calmed down—right into a depression. In two days he hadn’t left the big bed he shared with the Duke, except to use the bathroom, and more importantly he refused to eat anything.

“Come on, love,” Ellie coaxed, holding out a tray. “Look, it’s your favorites—chocolate mousse and Cook’s hot yeast rolls and strawberries fresh from the garden.”

Diamond glanced at the food prepared especially for him, then dove back under the covers and started crying afresh. Everyone was going to all this trouble for him, but he could only feel guilty about their wasted efforts. There was no way he could choke down even a mouthful of chocolate mousse, no matter how creamy and rich; it would taste like ashes on his tongue. Why couldn’t they understand that? Why couldn’t they all just leave him alone?

Ellie set the tray down on the bedside table and frowned. She didn’t know whether to be really afraid or merely irritated at Diamond’s behavior. Two days of no food wasn’t so bad, she supposed, but if he kept this up for the next five—

“Now listen up, boy,” she began firmly, poking at the lump under the covers, “you just stop this foolishness. When the Duke gets back and hears about this, he’s going to be very angry!”

Not only was he making the other servants angry by refusing the food they’d prepared, he would be upsetting his own master as well, Diamond thought helplessly, tears flowing unabated from his emerald-green eyes. His beautiful, strong, brilliant master who was going to be rid of him soon, maybe as soon as he came back from this trip, who didn’t really want him anymore and would probably use this behavior as an excuse to sell his contract. Even that dark thought couldn’t propel Diamond up but only made him curl more tightly into a ball wracked with sobs.

Ellie thought she could hear him crying still under the thick blankets.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby has learned to be suspicious of diplomatic visitors to the West Wing, who don't seem to have an official purpose.
> 
> Formerly Chapter 1, now Chapter 3 with text added.

The young man was quiet enough, Toby had to admit. He wasn't making much noise, or moving around too much. He was only sitting quietly on the floor before the couch, folding paper--Origami, according to the book laid out on the coffee table in front of him. Since everyone else in the room was a high-level aide assembled for a diplomatic meeting, however, his harmless activity seemed out of place.

Normally he might have written it off as a cultural tic of their guests, but the Lurachel delegation had taught him to be suspicious of people who appeared to be extraneous. Duke Nicorai of Vaalborg might seem like a fairly progressive ruler--so far--but you really couldn't tell these days. And he _was_ allied with the same League as Lurachel.

Toby let Josh and Sam ask the policy questions for a while as he pondered how to broach the subject. Finally he decided on a direct approach, no matter how unusual it would seem. "Your Grace," he began with his tight concession of a smile, when Josh paused to check his agenda, "who is that man over there?"

Josh paused his paper shuffling and gave Toby a warning look. The Duke glanced at the man in question, smiling slightly--Toby noticed he had sat where he could keep an eye on him--and replied, "That's Adiamante." At the sound of his name the young man looked up swiftly and began to rise, but the Duke shook his head and he resumed his position.

"And, ha, _who_ is Adiamante?" Toby pressed delicately.

The Duke leaned back in his chair casually. "My servant," he answered, sounding a bit mystified.

"And what kind of duties does he perform for you?"

The Duke's chief assistant, Paldor, touched his hand lightly, as a suggestion to take care, but Nicorai waved him off. "Why are you so curious, Mr. Ziegler?"

"Are you refusing to answer? Your Grace?" Toby countered, with a smile that was more like baring his teeth. Sam kicked him under the table.

The Duke's eyebrows shot up, but his posture remained studiously relaxed. "Are you?" he shot back with just a hint of edge in his voice.

Toby faked an ingratiating, tension-diffusing chuckle. The Duke gave him a polite smile. "It's a simple question," the Communications Director persisted.

"And the answer is equally simple," the Duke assured him evenly. "Adiamante does whatever I require of him." Again the young man looked up, but his leader was not watching him; he tried to go back to his paper folding, but his expression was troubled.

"Does he...cook?" Toby pressed.

This time the Duke's slight smile was genuine. "He can't cook."

"Does he...scrub the floors?"

"Not unless he's made a mess on them." A cool reply. The Duke was beginning to tire of this inquest.

"Then what does he do for you, Your Grace?"

"Toby," muttered Josh.

He was ignored. "Specifically."

"Specifically," the Duke replied in his usual calm manner, "he provides entertainment."

A leading statement, Toby decided. "Does he tell jokes?" A sliver of sarcasm, but the Duke heard it and his blue eyes narrowed.

"Mr. Ziegler, what is the purpose of these questions?" insisted Paldor.

"The purpose is just to find out what that man over there, whom you claim is a servant, actually does," Toby told them, innocence turning to indignation by the end.

"He _is_ a servant," the Duke repeated.

"He's an employee?"

"Yes."

"He gets paid?"

"His services were paid for, yes."

Toby pounced on the fine distinction immediately. "'Were paid for'? He doesn't get a regular salary? Hourly wages?"

"Toby," Josh hissed.

"That is not how things are done in Vaalborg," the Duke stated calmly.

"Well, help me understand how things _are_ done, Your Grace."

"Um, I think maybe a little break would be--" Josh began.

"Adiamante is a contract employee," the Duke told Toby, completely ignoring Josh. "At the time his contract was struck, his family was paid a set sum by whoever bought the contract."

"His family sold him?" Toby concluded coolly.

"Adiamante is not a slave," Nicorai corrected sharply. "We have no slaves in Vaalborg."

"Then what are the terms of this contract?"

"The terms are that Adiamante does whatever the contract holder requires of him."

Toby waited a moment, then pressed, "In exchange for?"

"In exchange for the money his family originally received," the Duke explained.

Toby wasn't sure if he was missing something or if it really was as bad as it sounded. "Room and board?" he queried. "Weekly allowance? Health care?"

The Duke met his accusing gaze calmly. "Only at the contract holder's discretion."

Toby smiled tightly. "I suppose there aren't any restrictions on the type of duties he performs," he guessed.

"That's correct."

Toby had a suspicion in the back of his mind, one pieced together from rumors and intelligence reports and the way he sometimes caught the Duke looking at the younger man. The act itself he didn't really have qualms about, none he would bring to work, anyway, but he found the culture of coercion to be abhorrent. "Adiamante provides entertainment."

"Yes," the Duke agreed. "It's his specialty. He's very good at it."

"And he does this how?"

"Adiamante sings, dances, tells stories, plays musical instruments--"

Toby cut him off. "Does he provide sexual favors?"

The other White House staffers were too afraid to move, with visions of the Duke storming out of the building running through their heads. The Vaalborgians, however, seemed more shocked by Toby's rudeness in interrupting.

"He does," Nicorai replied, without even a hint of discomfort.

"To you or anyone else you allow." It was more of a statement than a question.

The Duke paused, blinked, and then his posture changed as he relaxed truly. "I see," he said cryptically, with a slight smile. "Well, I'm very flattered, Mr. Ziegler, but..." His eyes became steely again. "I prefer not to share Adiamante with anyone else."

Toby's face turned a different color. "That is not what I meant!" he sputtered.

"Then what _did_ you mean?" snapped the Duke.

Josh jumped to his feet. "Ten minutes, everyone, okay? Stretch your--"

"No," Nicorai countered, and etiquette demanded that Josh sit back down, glancing hopelessly at Sam. Maybe, miraculously, Leo would wander in? "I want to know what he means."

"I mean," Toby began loudly, "that Adiamante is kept as your personal sex slave, which is entirely against all of our ideas about freedom and justice--"

There was a quick, high-pitched noise from the other side of the room and every head turned to stare at the young man in question, who was frantically trying to compose himself. "You've upset him," the Duke accused Toby coldly.

"He speaks English?" Toby supposed he might have been a _bit_ more discreet if--

"He can tell we're talking about him and he can tell we're angry," the Duke pointed out. "He's not stupid. Adiamante." The young man glanced up, ashamed to have drawn attention to himself. Nicorai waved him over and he dropped the piece of paper in his hand immediately. He sprang up from his seat and scrambled to the Duke's side, kneeling at his feet and staring up at him like a lost puppy. Toby could hardly watch.

Adiamante spoke rapidly to the Duke, his voice tearful, but his leader reassured him with soothing tones and ran a large hand through his short red-blond hair. Eventually the servant quieted, resting his head against the Duke's knee. When the Duke's gaze turned back to Toby, any softness died away.

“Adiamante is not a slave. He’s a servant.”

Toby found it increasingly difficult to keep his temper with people who were in complete denial of reality. “In what way, exactly, is he different from a slave?”

“I don’t own him,” the Duke replied, as if it was really that simple.

“But you have a contract for his labor.”

“Technically,” the Duke corrected, still gently stroking Adiamante, “the contract is for his time.”

“Mr. Ziegler,” Paldor cut in, “if you wish to know the details of contract employees in Vaalborg, I would be happy to meet with you later—“

“Right now,” Toby interrupted, never taking his eyes off the Duke, “I’m only interested in learning about one particular ‘contract employee.’” The last phrase he said with just the tiniest drop of contempt.

“Why?” the Duke asked suddenly, genuinely curious.

“Why?” Toby repeated, somewhat incredulous.

“Yes,” the Duke assured him, “why are you so interested in Adiamante?”

For a moment Toby was speechless. It seemed so simple to him. “For the last three hours we’ve been sitting here asking you questions about education, welfare, the environment—every aspect of your country we can think of,” he finally explained. “If we’re going to make deals with you, we want to know exactly who we’re dealing with.”

“Ah,” the Duke replied calmly. “Are you going to threaten me as you did my friend, the Alreza of Lurachel? Tell me that I had better start doing things your way or else?” The nobleman seemed vaguely amused by that idea.

“Keeping slaves is a violation of every notion of human freedom and dignity—“

“One: we do not keep slaves,” the Duke repeated, leaning forward intently. “Two: _your_ ideals are not universal ideals.”

“Maybe they should be,” Toby muttered.

The Duke ignored this. “Three: your history does not exactly uphold your so-called ideals.”

“Whose history does?” Toby protested. “We learn, we progress, we change.”

“In Vaalborg most people do not think there is anything wrong with contract employees,” the Duke stated simply.

“Most?” Toby asked, catching the word with interest.

“It was an issue in the national elections three years ago,” Paldor pointed out. “Eighty-seven percent of the population voted to keep the system in place.”

“Eighty-seven percent, hmmm?” Toby was not impressed. “And how many of the voters are contract employees themselves?”

He expected his question to silence the visitors, but Paldor quickly replied, “All contract employees are _required_ to vote in national and provincial elections. Anonymous ballots, just as you have here,” he added as Toby opened his mouth.

“Who votes to be a slave?” Toby asked rhetorically. He felt like he was somehow losing this argument.

“Contract employees are also allowed to accumulate money and personal possessions,” the Duke continued.

“How?” Toby snapped. “You’ve got a contract on all his time!”

“Well, I can’t use him twenty-four hours a day,” the Duke replied matter-of-factly. Toby noticed that the servant still glanced anxiously between him and his employer; no doubt he was afraid of being beaten later for causing trouble. “If I tell him he has some free time, and he decides to say, gamble with friends, he can keep any money he wins.”

“Gambling?” Toby repeated, feeling slightly confused.

“Or someone could give him money, as a gift.”

“A tip?” Toby asked acidly.

The Duke’s ice-blue eyes hardened again. “I told you, Mr. Ziegler, I’m not interested in sharing Adiamante.”

“Can a contract employee,” Toby inquired carefully, “choose to share himself?”

“Not without his master’s permission.”

Toby’s eyebrows shot up. “His master?”

The Duke shrugged. “It’s the traditional form of address.”

“So could Adiamante just walk away, if he wanted to?” Toby pressed. “Could he just leave?”

Toby imagined that he saw the Duke’s jaw tighten just a little bit, that he pulled the kneeling servant just a little bit closer to him. “Of course,” he answered, with forced casualness. His advisors shared glances, which Toby did not miss. “Anyone can walk away.”

“Without consequence?” Toby pounced.

“Can you leave _your_ legal obligations without consequence?” the Duke countered.

Toby decided to rephrase the question. “What would you do if Adiamante walked away?”

“If Adiamante ran away”—the Duke made no attempt to disguise the change in language—“I would hunt him down with dogs and soldiers, and when I caught him I would flog him as punishment.”

The Duke didn’t blink as he delivered his reply. For a moment Toby was taken aback; so were the Duke’s advisors, from their expressions. “Is that what you would really do?” he finally asked.

“Does that matter?” the Duke replied coldly. “I gave you the answer that you wanted.”

Toby opened his mouth to retort something he would probably regret later, but Josh jumped to his feet again. “Okay, now it’s _really_ time for a break. Alright, everyone?”

Paldor lightly brushed the Duke’s arm with his own, and the nobleman reluctantly agreed, rising from his chair. As soon as he was up, everyone else sprang up as well, forming tight groups and whispering urgently. “Toby, can I see you out in the hall?” Josh hissed, grabbing his arm and steering him towards the door. As they passed Adiamante, the servant shrank away from them, towards the Duke.

Nicorai glanced down when he felt the boy lean against him. “Diamond,” he addressed him in their own language, and the boy glanced up, green eyes wide. The Duke waved off a question from Paldor and instead gestured for Diamond to stand. Nicorai put a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. “Show me what you’ve been working on,” he suggested, nodding towards the coffee table.

Diamond smiled in return. “Okay,” he agreed easily, leading his master over to the couch. Nicorai decided to remain standing—he’d been sitting far too much today. “This is called Origami, Master,” Diamond explained, indicating the pile of folded paper shapes.


End file.
